So, I wanted to practice writing other people's characters, and here's one of the results. All are just little standalone pieces for fun. Staring  bodbloat

Bod decides to take advantage of his living room being empty and enjoy some nice, relaxing inflation. When has that ever gone wrong?

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A Little Too Much Open Space
By: IndigoRho

Bod stood in the middle of his nearly empty living room, a devious grin on his snout. The red and yellow dragon had toiled most of the day replacing most of the carpet after an unfortunate...incident the night before. He momentarily scowled at how ridiculously hard it was to find quality magma-proof flooring these days, before brushing the unwanted annoyance aside. The repair job had been tedious and tiring, and Bod was ready to just relax and enjoy what remained of his weekend. Dealing with the carpet had required clearing out the living room, leaving it nice and open and giving him a wonderful idea: inflation. There were plenty of spots in the house to inflate, of course, but few gave him such a perfect opportunity to inflate big and round in the comfort of his own home. Usually he had to resort to the backyard or the lab, both of which were accident-prone. Nothing could possibly go wrong this time, though.

Clad in a brand new latex suit, Bod crouched down to fidget one final time with his air compressor, which he'd lovingly customized with variable speed settings, a timer, zero sharp edges, and a fresh coat of paint to match his scales. He adjusted the speed to just below the mid-range—ensuring he had the opportunity to actually enjoy the expansion process itself—and set the timer to five minutes. Once on, the compressor would simply fill him up and shut off, allowing Bod to inflate to a good size without having to worry about being out of reach. Eager to start, Bod flipped the switch—the compressor gently whiring to life—and a steady stream of air was soon flowing through the long tube leading towards his rear.

Almost immediately, Bod felt a small pressure building in his middle and watched with glee as his chest puffed out beneath the shiny latex. He gripped the gradually growing dome with both claws, feeling the already taut surface's lack of give, drumming on it a bit just to hear the hollow sound echoing back. Echoes were abruptly replaced by a short Pop!, and then another and another as the yellow plates on his growing belly were separated, exposing the underlying red scales to the smooth touch of the latex. Bod's gut was the size of an overfilled beach ball now, and his expansion was far from over. His scales creaked and groaned innocently as his skin was stretched more and more, while the suit itself squeaked in kind. The noise wasn't unexpected—and admittedly rather enjoyable—akin to hearing the voice of an old friend.

As Bod's swollen middle reached the two foot mark he carefully leaned forwards, balancing himself atop it like it were an exercise ball. He groaned a little as he felt the added pressure of his body weighing upon his belly and felt his claws lifting away from the carpet. The creaking and squeaking continued, long and drawn out, Bod cradling the expanding black orb that was his middle, smiling wide as he rose. Three feet wide. Four feet wide. Five feet wide. Five-and-a-half. Hours of testing and trial-by-error had proven the compressor should shut off almost exactly at the six foot mark, and once it did, he could simply wobble about on his inflated belly in peace. Five-and-three-quarters. Maybe he'd even take a nap atop it. Six feet.

Bod closed his eyes and sighed, anticipating the loud jingle of the timer. Silence. Six-and-one-quarter feet. Bod's eyes opened in confusion. Where was the jingle? He tried to look around, but his immense, shiny middle was blocking his view of the compressor far behind him. Six-and-a-half feet. The dragon rocked back and forth in dismay, the pressure in his belly still building. Despite all the successful testing the timer had failed him, and Bod was in no position to either remove the tube or turn the compressor off. He was beginning to feel additional pressure from the latex suit itself as it struggled to contain his expanding form, approaching its limit.

He knew what would happen next. Any second now he'd feel a sharp corner of the coffee table's glass top begin to dig into his side, bursting him once he inflated into it further. Maybe it'd be the side table this time, with it's rough, wooden edges. There was always that tack he'd dropped on the carpet and never found, lurking amidst the fibers, waiting to strike. Or the compressor itself; it'd already betrayed him once with the timer, perhaps it'd finish the job with a jagged bit of machinery. Bod ballooned out even more, but felt no pokes or scratches. That was when he remembered the room was empty, that there weren't any suspiciously dangerous pieces of furniture to pop him, that he'd just modified the compressor itself to be completely smooth.

Popping was still an inevitability—his body had a limit, after all—but a whole new problem presented itself. The ceiling was a tad bit short of his limit. Bod was suddenly faced with the fear of his imminent explosion causing significant property damage, a drain on both his wallet and his free time. He envisioned himself wedged between floor and ceiling, the latex suit shredding apart, his whole body feeling like it was in a press. When he finally popped the whole house would shake, windows shattering, car alarms going off all along the street, the ceiling caving in a little. Hmm, maybe it wasn't all that bad. The lab had just finished up some new products that were sure to sell well, so the cost of repairs wouldn't be too bad, and he'd always wanted to change up the living room a tad, maybe vault the ceilings and add more windows to let the light in. He could probably convince his friends to help out with the project, too.

While Bod fantasized about home renovation, an unexpected guest entered the living room and caught his eye. Straight ahead was a roomba, diligently wandering around the house in search of a mess, an adorable potted cactus sitting atop it. Jackpot! Bod had combined the unusual pair in a bout of late night inspiration after dealing with an inflation accident that closely mirrored his current predicament, in which the cactus had saved his office from himself. He reasoned that on the rare occasions his inflation grew out of control and there wasn't somehow something nearby to deal with him, the mobile cactus could potential ride to his sort of rescue. Obviously his genius had paid off.

Bod grinned as the roomba gradually ambled right towards him with precision aim. The roomba disappeared beneath the horizon of his latex-clad body and Bod winced as he felt the needles of the cactus slowly press into his beyond-tight middle...right before they retracted. With confusion Bod watched the roomba roll away and continue it's pre-programmed cleaning routine for the living room, having considered the inflated dragon an obstacle and dutifully avoided it. Bod cursed at the devilish vacuum under his breath, watching the ceiling closing in. The roomba bumped into him a second time, again teasing him with the cactus' pins before meandering away. By the third occurrence, Bod was convinced it was being remote controlled by an out-of-sight friend, or had gained sentience or something.

The dragon was creaking and groaning and squeaking more than ever, and far too much of his tail was brushing up against the ceiling now. If he wanted to hold off on the renovations, he'd need to take matters into his own claws. Luckily, the roomba charged at him from the front on its fourth pass. Just as he lost sight of it, Bod began rocking himself back and forth on his bloated belly, rolling right onto the roomba. A dozen pins found their mark, and Bod grinned in success as he burst apart with enough force to rattle the walls and windows but not do any lasting harm. Scraps of red and yellow scales, along with black latex, rained on the living room like confetti, spreading across the once again empty space. The air compressor remained on, its timer still counting down the fifty minutes it'd accidentally been set to.

Before the last scrap finished floating gracefully onto the floor the roomba went to work, rolling across the scattered scales and latex and sucking them up. The process took time, but eventually the only evidence left of Bod's accident was the quietly running compressor.